I…am weary. Weary to my bones.
Here’s the pool at the local 24 Hour Fitness, where I’ve been swimming.
Just looking at that picture, right now, makes me weary. Weary down deep; weary until death.
I don’t actually get that tired swimming; I’ve never swum longer than an hour and fifteen minutes at a time. And, truth be told, usually swimming sort of revives me – although it can be very very difficult for me to actually get in the pool to start. Something about immersing myself in the water when it’s below freezing outside is counter-intuitive.
But, still, looking at that pool makes me tired.
In October, my friend Ian suggested (hypnotized/mesmerized/drugged-and-induced me into) doing that St. George Half Ironman this coming May.
(editor’s note: They don’t call it the St. George Half Ironman. They call it the Ironman 70.2, referring to the total distance, which is – of course – exactly half of a real Ironman. One of my nightmares is actually finishing a half-Ironman and having them call me an Ironman, even though I’d only be half of one. But, as it happens, finishing a half-Ironman, but being proclaimed an Ironman, is right now not one of my real concerns).
I then started on a training regimen – 8 hours one week, followed by 10 hours the week after that, then 12 hours, then cycling back through again. I kept this up until mid December, when the wheels fell off – I felt sick, and didn’t get better.
So I took several easy weeks of training, but then this last month I cranked back up – 8, 10, 12, then back to 8 hours last week – but this week has not been going so well.
I’m swimming and riding much farther than I ever expected, but not swimming or riding any FASTER than I was. And I am running slower, and less distance, than I’ve ever run in my life. And I’ve always thought of myself more in a running mode than any other athletic endeavor, so that’s not very heartening.
Then, sitting in my easy chair the other night, I realized the other night that I was in despair – I felt like I didn’t have any hope.
Now, things are not what one could call bad; I live in Park City, UT with a beautiful woman who likes to ski and play golf and rock climb and watch college football. I have a great job and friends and all kinds of fun things to do. I have kids that are growing up and spreading out, and I have a God taking care of me. And we’re currently in Season Three of Buffy, which is a fun season.
But when I am very, very tired, then I get hopeless. And I don’t even know that it’s happening.
So this morning, when I woke up and asked God what to do today, I think that He told me not to work out.
And I listened.
And when I wake up tomorrow morning, I’ll ask Him what to do again – but if he says “Go work out”, I’m gonna listen real hard to see if He repeats Himself.
Because I am TIRED.
I may have wasted the money on the bike; it’s a good bike, and I’ll be able to recoup quite a bit if I sell it. Most of the swimming and running, of course, is a sunk cost, although the time – and effort – may have been wasted, as well.
Who knows? I may get struck young; I may wake up next week 34 years old, and ready to hit this triathlon training again. Who knows?
But for now, I’m just done.